


Truth Time

by Sarren



Category: Lewis (TV)
Genre: Cliche, First Time, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-27
Updated: 2011-09-27
Packaged: 2017-10-24 02:11:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/257733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sarren/pseuds/Sarren
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A storm forces Lewis and Hathaway to spend the night in close quarters.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Truth Time

**Author's Note:**

> Set after season 5.
> 
> For the lewis_challenge prompt by tommyboybbi: A night away, only 1 room left at the inn? On a case, working away from Oxford, and it's a bad storm, the rivers are flooding the roads out. Finally giving in that they can't get from point a to point b, they start looking for rooms. They find one, yes one. It's this or sleep in the car. Taking it, they have a few drinks in the pub. What happens when they get to their room? One on the bed, one of the floor? Share the bed?  
> 

Lightening illuminated the interior of the car for a moment. Lewis could see Hathaway’s fingers clenched, white-knuckled on the steering wheel.

They both stared at the fallen tree, its splintered branches scraping wetly against the bonnet of the car.

“That’s it,” Lewis said, his pulse jumping, lowering his hand from the dashboard where he’d instinctively braced for impact. “I think I saw a B&B a few miles back, we’re staying put until the storm passes.”

Hathaway didn’t argue. He carefully turned the car around on the narrow lane, doing an eight point turn to avoid the flooded, rushing ditches on either side. The headlights flashed across oaks bent at unnatural angles. As Hathaway straightened up and slowly started to accelerate a gust of wind buffeted the car and it slid slightly. Lewis resisted the urge to grab on to something. Hathaway had the car under control a moment later.

“Well, this whole day has been a bloody waste of time,” Lewis grumbled, “I’ve never met a ruder, unhelpful bunch of ‘witnesses’ in my life. Should have just hauled them into the station and been done with it.”

Hathaway glanced at him. “Oh, I’m sure that’s not true, sir,” he replied, sounding amused. “Besides, there’s something to be said for being witness to the power and majesty of nature in all its fury.”

A branch flew into the windscreen and they both jumped. It caught for a moment on the wipers’ blades before it was swept away, disappearing into the darkness.

“Not when I’m caught out in it, with only a tin can between me and its _majesty_ ,” Lewis snapped. He was really concerned now – it didn’t seem possible but the storm seemed to be worsening.

Out of the corner of his eye he could tell Hathaway was sneaking looks at him, but obviously was wise enough not to pursue the subject. Lewis ignored him and kept his eyes peeled for any more flying objects.

“There,” Hathaway said at last, pointing at an oddly gothic-looking tower, its light a beacon in the storm.

The wind had died off a bit and with it Lewis’s temper. “It’s a bit Rocky Horror for my taste,” he said mildly, squinting through the deluge.

Hathaway cast him an amused glance. “Any port in a storm, sir,” he said, easing the car through the flooded carpark.

Lightening flashed, illuminating the row of motorbikes in front of the entrance.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Lewis muttered.

Hathaway raised his eyebrows expressively and swung into the empty space at the end of the row. He turned off the engine. The windscreen wipers stopped, and within seconds a wall of water obscured the outside world.

They sat quietly for a while, the sound of the wind louder now. The windows fogged up, and Lewis started to feel a bit chilly. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Hathaway shiver. “Make a run for it, you think?” Lewis suggested.

“We could wait for a while, see if it eases off.”

Lewis stared at Hathaway in disbelief.

Hathaway shot him a sideways glance and then made a show of peering out of the window. “Maybe not,” he said eventually. He started the engine again.

“What are you doing?”

“I’ll drive you up to the door so you don’t get wet.”

“What am I, your maiden aunt?” Lewis said, a bit stung.

Hathaway gave him _that_ look as he turned the engine off again. To be fair, his face was in shadow, but Lewis knew he was doing it anyway, that look that said that in his expert opinion, Lewis had lost the plot. His silence was pointed. Lewis took another look at the storm raging outside the car and regretted his instinctive offence. Since the subject of retirement had come up last month, since he’d had to think about the Future, his Mortality, he’d been off his game a bit. He knew it. He knew Hathaway knew it.

“Right then,” Lewis said decisively and pushed open his door, bracing it as the wind buffeted it. He swung one leg quickly out, cursing as his foot sank into a puddle. He threw himself out of the car. The wind caught the door and slammed it shut. Lewis hurriedly turned up the collar of his coat as he ran towards the welcoming light, bending his head against the rain sheeting over him, shivering as it trickled under his collar and plastered his hair to his head. He was drenched by the time he made it through the last puddle; the water splashing up his trouser leg was just insult on top of injury. He huddled in the doorway, and turned to see where Hathaway was.

Hathaway was right there, shuffling into the doorway, crowding Lewis back against the door. A single bulb flickered above them, behind Hathaway’s head, and Hathaway was looking down at him, his face half in shadow, water running down his temples, his forehead; he was blinking raindrops from long eyelashes. His hair looked dark, flattened against his skull. For a moment he looked like a stranger. A shiver of something that he couldn’t blame on the cold went through Lewis’s body. He stared at Hathaway’s shadowed face, wishing he could see the expression in his eyes. He wondered what the hell Hathaway was doing, crowding him like this, wondered why he was letting himself be crowded, suddenly breathless with anticipation or nerves, he wasn’t entirely certain.

Hathaway had all but stopped flirting with him – if that’s what they’d been doing these last few years – when it seemed like something was happening between him and Laura. But that had fizzled out soon enough, hadn’t it? Things with Hathaway had never really gone back to the way they were before, though. Lewis had missed it, missed the unspoken tension between them, missed Hathaway’s subtle looks, his sly comments, but he couldn’t seem to find a way back to how they’d been before. Maybe it wasn’t even possible. And that was the real reason Lewis had even considered retiring when Lyn had suggested it so persuasively, wasn’t it? But then unexpected Hathaway’s declaration – _if you go, I go_ – had changed everything. He remembered the flare of warmth in his chest, the sense of relief, of joy, even, and Lewis wasn’t going to read too much into it, even if a tiny, repressed part of him couldn’t help hoping…what? That Hathaway really did fancy him? Lewis wasn’t going to assume anything, he was just glad that whatever it was that they’d had wasn’t gone, wasn’t ruined. He wasn’t even sure what exactly that was. He knew what he was feeling now, though – the sensation of his pulse speeding up, that faint sense of breathlessness, of wonder, though it had been such a long time. He welcomed it.

Hathaway was shuffling even closer. Was this it? Now? Lewis’s finger twitched nervously towards him.

“It’s not locked, is it?” Hathaway said doubtfully, craning past him, trying to see through the frosted glass in the door. “With all due respect, sir, hurry up. I’m freezing.”

Or not.

Lewis fumbled with the latch behind him and the door swung open. He took a step backwards, inside, putting space between them while he regained his balance; feeling his face flush with embarrassment, forcing himself to ignore the way his stomach was clenching with disappointment.

A wave of warmth and noise greeted them. Hathaway pushed past him and into the room, rubbing his hands together. Lewis followed him and then nearly ran into his back because Hathaway had halted abruptly. Lewis stepped around him and stopped too. The pub was crowded tonight with a miscellaneous assortment of people, some of them obviously other motorists who’d been caught in the storm. Everyone in the room had turned to stare at them. Lewis half expected the music to come to a tinkling stop, like in the Westerns.

“At least they’re not wearing tuxes and party hats,” Hathaway muttered out of the side of his mouth. It took Lewis a moment to get the reference. He huffed in amusement. But then the punters turned back to their drinks, their conversations, and it was just an ordinary noisy, crowded pub, just like any other.

Hathaway took a step towards the bar. Lewis caught his arm. “I’ll be right back,” he said, pointing towards the sign for the gents. Hathaway nodded in response.

Lewis relieved himself and then stared at his reflection in the bathroom mirror, wondering if this was some sort of delayed midlife crisis. He’d never looked twice at anyone else when he’d had Val, not seriously. But Val was gone now, too long, and she wouldn’t want him to be alone. Not Val.

The door opened and Lewis blinked, reaching for a paper towel to dry his hands. Hathaway stood in the doorway, wearing his mildest enquiring expression, the one that made suspects feel like they could tell him anything, that he wouldn’t judge them. Lewis knew that expression. He frowned at Hathaway repressively.

“You were a long time, sir. I was just checking to make sure you hadn’t fallen in.”

“Give over,” Lewis grumbled, moving towards the door. Hathaway stepped back and gestured for Lewis to go ahead.

“I’ve got us a room,” Hathaway said behind him, leaning close, his breath puffing against Lewis’s ear. Lewis couldn’t help it, he shivered, and he didn’t even have the cold as an excuse. It was warm in the pub; he was warm. His whole body was flushing with heat and he was suddenly very aware of Hathaway, standing too close. Was he doing it deliberately? The pub was crowded, but not that crowded; the music was loud, but not loud enough to necessitate the intimate way Hathaway was leaning into him, murmuring into his ear. “What do you want?”

“What?” Lewis said, sure he’d misheard.

“To drink.”

“It’s late, I’m just going to go to bed. We’ll have to get an early start tomorrow.”

“Assuming the storm’s blown over by then.”

“As soon as it’s safe,” Lewis agreed.

“This way, sir,” Hathaway said, ushering him towards the stairs. Was that his hand on Lewis’s back?

Lewis stopped at the foot of the stairs. “Give me my key,” he said, holding out his hand. “It’s early yet, you go on,” he said, nodding towards the bar.

Hathaway pursed his lips, shook his head. “I’m not bothered,” he said. “Could do with an early night myself.” He started up the stairs.

“Suit yourself,” Lewis said, letting his hand drop. He followed at a slower pace. By the time he got to the top of the stairs, Hathaway was down the hall, opening the door to one of the rooms. “Oi,” Lewis called. “What about my key?”

Hathaway had on his best poker-face. As Lewis approached he gestured into the room. “Only one key,” he said.

“You never mean we have to share?” Lewis said, aghast, already anticipating disaster, or at least awkwardness.

“’Fraid so, sir. Literally the last room at the inn.”

Hathaway was grinning now. In fact, Lewis might even go so far as to describe his expression as one of unholy glee. He entered the room with a sense of foreboding. His stomach dropped at the sight of the bed.

“No,” he said, firmly.

“Yes,” Hathaway said, as he went over and switched on the heater. It sounded like he was trying not to laugh.

“What is that?”

“It’s a bed, sir.”

“It’s too small.”

“The landlord assures me that it’s a double.”

“He’s lying through his teeth.”

“It does seem a little on the compact side.”

“You think?”

“Never mind, sir,” Hathaway said, sitting down on the bed and producing a bottle of scotch from somewhere. “It’ll be cosy.”

It was impossible. No way in hell was Lewis going to be able to share a bed, never mind _that_ bed, with Hathaway and not give himself away. What was the alternative? That one of them sleep on the cold, hard floor, or, god forbid, in the car? It wasn’t going to be him, not unless he wanted to wake up with a bad back and joints that ached for hours. And Hathaway knew that. If Lewis made a fuss, Hathaway would be all chivalrous-like and insist on taking the floor. Lewis looked at the wooden floorboards and the threadbare rugs and sighed. He sat down next to Hathaway and held his hand out for the bottle, taking a generous swig when Hathaway handed it to him.

They were going to have to Talk About It.

And by the way Hathaway was swigging back the scotch and casting him glances out of the corners of his eyes, Hathaway knew it too.

Lewis’s stomach was tied up in knots. He felt like a boy again, sick with nerves, trying to get up the courage to ask the prettiest girl at the dance to dance with him. Val had said yes and everything had been easy after that. Boy meets girl. Boy courts girl. Boy asks girl to marry him and they live happily ever after. Except Val had asked him, hadn’t she, when he’d stumbled and stuttered and his hands had shook when he’d got out the ring. And if the happily ever after hadn’t quite made it to the ‘ever after’, still, they’d had more than most people.

And now here he was again, wondering if the person he liked felt the same way, suspecting they did, but it wasn’t the same, wasn’t the same at all. He wasn’t a callow youth, with his whole future ahead of him, his family’s expectations to live up to. For the first time in a long time he allowed himself to think about Eric.

“I joined the police force right out of school, you know,” he said, taking the bottle from Hathaway, and taking a large swig.

Hathaway watched him. “Yes, sir?” he said encouragingly.

Lewis stopped, momentarily lost in the memory of that scared excited feeling in his chest when Eric would give him a lift home, when they’d stop for a pint, just the two of them. “There was another lad, not that much older. We palled around together.” He took another swig.

Hathaway made an encouraging noise. The bed dipped slightly as he shifted, angling his body towards Lewis. Lewis risked a glance at him as he offered him the bottle. Hathaway shook his head, his eyes never leaving Lewis’s. His expression was intent. He shifted again, just slightly. Lewis looked away, stared at where Hathaway’s leg now pressed against his.

“What was his name?” Hathaway asked quietly.

“Eric,” Lewis said. “His name was Eric.”

“What happened?”

“Nothing,” Lewis said. He took a smaller drink this time. It went down smoothly, too smoothly. He’d definitely had enough, at least for this conversation. He went to put it on the floor and changed his mind – knowing his luck he’d kick it over, or Hathaway would, with those long limbs of his. He leant over and put the bottle on the bedside table instead. “It was different back then where I grew up,” he said. “If you had those feelings you kept them to yourself if you didn’t want to get the shit kicked out of you.”

“Not so different still, for some,” Hathaway said and Lewis nodded, conceding the point.

Lewis stared at Hathaway’s leg, still pressed against his. He had to know what Lewis was about, bringing up Eric like this and yet here Hathaway was, touching Lewis, sitting so close Lewis only had to lean over to kiss him, to slide his arms around Hathaway, press him back against the bed.

“Eric?” Hathaway prompted.

“He took a transfer to another station. Maybe he requested it, I don’t know.” Lewis shrugged. “Then I met Val, and that was it for me. It was a relief, in a way.”

“I can see how it would be.” There was no judgement in Hathaway’s voice. In fact, Hathaway’s voice was, if anything, more noncommittal than usual.

“It was never an issue for me after that…”

“Was?”

Lewis took a deep breath. This was it, then. He put his hand on Hathaway’s knee where it was pressed against his own. He stared at it fixedly, waiting breathlessly for Hathaway’s reaction. He didn’t really expect Hathaway to turn him down, though the way his gut was churning, at least a part of him wasn’t confident he hadn’t misread the situation. No, he was nervous about Hathaway saying yes. This was uncharted territory, and he couldn’t help feeling a little ridiculous, a man of his age falling in love with a boy – no, Hathaway wasn’t a boy – but a man nearly half his age.

Hathaway’s long fingers curled around his own. “We should get out of these wet clothes,” he said solemnly.

Lewis’d been a bit preoccupied before, but now that Hathaway mentioned it, he realised he was wet and clammy, his clothes sticking to him uncomfortably. But still, why bring it up now, when Lewis baring his soul...

He looked up. Hathaway was staring at him warmly…expectantly.

Oh.

Was it really going to be that easy?

“Yeah, okay,” he said. Lewis stood up. He wondered if Hathaway would want them to undress each other. Lewis didn’t feel very romantic right now, between the wet clothes and the stark, unforgiving light of the room. But Hathaway was stripping matter-of-factly, not even looking at Lewis. Lewis was relieved. He’d just taken off his shirt and let it drop, damp and crumpled on the floor, when he realised that Hathaway was down to his briefs and was hesitating, staring at him uncertainly. Lewis couldn’t help it; his eyes flickered over Hathaway’s lean form appreciatively, lingering on the erection clearly outlined behind the tight cotton. His own body stirred in response. Lewis’s heart was threatening to beat its way out of his chest from anticipation.

Something of what he was feeling must have been apparent because the tension left Hathaway’s face and he smiled faintly, seemingly more to himself than at Lewis. He stripped off his briefs and sat on the bed. There was a row of switches on the wall next to him. He flicked the bedside lamp on and the main light off and the room was cast in a dim, warm glow. Lewis was glad of it. He wasn’t particularly self-conscious about his body, he was in good shape for a man his age, but the reality was, he wasn’t 30 anymore; he wasn’t lean and unlined and supple the way Hathaway was, stretching out on the bed like a cat now, regarding him through hooded eyes. Hathaway didn’t seem to have any complaints though. He was watching Lewis take off his vest. Hathaway’s mouth was parted; he was wetting his lips with his tongue. God, that was unexpectedly hot. He kicked off his shoes and dragged his trousers and pants off in one rough gesture, then climbed onto the bed and crawled on top of Hathaway, Hathaway arching up to meet him. Hathaway’s arms slid around him and dragged Lewis down to meet his mouth. They were kissing messily, no finesse, nothing at all like how Lewis had imagined Hathaway would kiss.

Hathaway seemed like he couldn’t get enough of Lewis. He was making low, urgent noises. It was flattering, Hathaway’s reaction. More than that, it eased something in Lewis, some last doubt about whether Hathaway could really fancy _him_ , really feel this much for him, because this wasn’t a casual shag for Hathaway, he _knew_ Hathaway. Then Hathaway’s hands slid down his back. Hathaway grabbed his arse and pulled Lewis hard against him. Lewis let go, rutting against Hathaway’s body. It didn’t feel as strange as Lewis had thought it would, doing this with another man. It was Hathaway; it was all right, more than all right, it was perfect.

Then Hathaway writhed, and pushed, and somehow slid up the bed, or Lewis slid down, he wasn’t sure. He couldn’t spare the brain power to work it out, because he was between Hathaway’s thighs now and all the blood in his body was rushing downwards, making his balls tighten and his cock harden impossibly. Hathaway had wrapped his legs around Lewis’s waist. He writhed again and then, incredibly, Lewis was sliding between the cheeks of his arse and Hathaway’s hands were scrabbling and pulling on Lewis’s back, trying to pull him even closer. Hathaway was making insistent sounds, urging him on…

“Do you want me to fuck you?” Lewis gasped, because, god, the _thought_ of it, but he had to be _sure_ , and Hathaway said ‘Robbie’ and ‘yours’ in a broken voice. He arched against Lewis and came, shuddering, making gasping, sobbing noises, clutching Lewis as if he would never let go. It was too intense. Lewis couldn’t remember it ever feeling like this. He was drowning in sensation, Hathaway’s emotions feeding his own. Hathaway said ‘Robbie’ again, sounding far away, sounding awed.

Lewis was nearly there…nearly there… He buried his face in Hathaway’s neck and felt something brush his ear. Hathaway murmured, ‘love you’ and then there was a sharp pain as Hathaway bit his earlobe. Lewis didn’t know whether it was the words, or one sensation too many, but that was it, Lewis was gone, his orgasm torn out of him. He collapsed against Hathaway, vaguely aware that Hathaway was cradling him, stroking his back as he gasped for breath, sweaty and wrung out, not sure he could even muster the strength to shift to the side. Hathaway didn’t seem to mind his weight though, and Lewis was still thinking that he really should move in a second when he fell asleep.

 

Lewis woke up. For a moment he wondered at the feeling of warmth and contentment that flooded through him until he processed the fact that long limbs were wrapped around him, and the memory of the previous night abruptly returned. Hathaway. He was with Hathaway, and he was happy. He didn’t have the luxury of dwelling on the wonder of it all, though, because one of those limbs was pressing against his bladder. Lewis disentangled himself from Hathaway’s octopus-like grip and got up.

On the way back to bed Lewis realised the howling wind had subsided. He went over to the window and threw open the curtains. Weak morning light flooded the room. There was a muttered protest from the bed.

The worst of the storm had passed, though it was still windy, still raining steadily. He supposed they should get on the road again. They could be back at work by lunchtime. “What’s it like out?” Hathaway mumbled, his warm voice sleepy and more relaxed than Lewis had ever heard it.

“Not too bad,” Lewis said regretfully. He came and sat down on the bed next to Hathaway. Hathaway slid one bare arm from under the covers and took hold of Lewis’s hand, holding it. They smiled at each other. Lewis’s eyes wandered over Hathaway’s face, the tiny wrinkles at the corner of his eyes and mouth when he smiled, the almost invisible morning stubble. He supposed that would be something he’d have to get used to, because he really, really wanted to kiss Hathaway right now.

Then Hathaway pursed his lips and looked at Lewis solemnly. “The roads will be bad this morning,” he pointed out. “Probably wise to let it clear up a bit more before we leave. I’ll get the laptop out of the car later; we’ll write up the report and email it in.”

“You think driving on the roads this morning might violate the Health and Safety at Work Act, do you?” Lewis asked archly. It was hard to conceal the joy that was bubbling inside him.

“I think it’s a distinct possibility, sir, yes,” Hathaway said regretfully, but his eyes fairly danced with amusement.

Lewis thought about it. It was a low priority case, anyway. They’d only been out taking statements themselves because they didn’t have anything more pressing to do and had wanted to escape the office. “All right then,” Lewis said, reaching for him, thrilling at the eager way Hathaway came into his arms. “But you can be the one to explain it to Innocent.”


End file.
